Category: blog

Last week a coworker came to work raving about a recent dental visit. “I got a root canal for just over $100. Can you believe that? Most places charge $600-700!”

 

This week, she returned to work with bad news. “I had to get another root canal. Apparently the dentist did the root canal on the wrong tooth. Plus, it appears something in the wrong root canal has caused an infection. So, basically, I had two root canals. The dentist I previously went to was closed for the holiday so I had to go to a new dentist and he kept asking if I was homeless.”

 

As she continued to share details of her dental dilemma she repeated the question this week’s dentist asked her, “Are you homeless?” “Why did he keep asking you that? Where did you get your dental work done last week?” I asked. “A homeless clinic,” she reluctantly replied. “Are you homeless?” I asked. “No! I’m a cheapskate,” she informed me.

 

Turns out her financial mindset may be the actual ‘root’ of her problems. Confucius say, “The best time to go to the (good) dentist is tooth hurty.” Confucius don’t say, “Two root canal better than one.”

Each year a local ski resort hosts Oktoberfest activities. This year, Irish Girl and I decided to attend. After doing so, we headed straight to the ski resort bar and reminisced about our younger years.

 

“All I ever dated were skaters, snowboarders and skiers. They were a lot of fun but, one day, I decided I wanted a little more out of life,” I told Irish Girl. “Like a sweatshirt with a sequined tiger on it and a Russian looking hat,” Irish Girl quipped, referring to my attire for the day. “Exactly,” I replied.

 

We joined up with some of her friends and the reminiscing continued. “I grew up in a small town in Massachusetts where we would hold the Drunk Driving Olympics,” said one of the friends whose accent grew thicker with each drink. “We once held the Hampton Olympics, not to be confused with the Hampton Limp Dicks,” I told him. “We could probably do the Drunk Driving Limp Dicks too,” he said, then digressed. “I love Snapchat. I’m constantly posting dick pics.” “Doesn’t that make you nervous?” I asked. “No, they’re soft shots and only up for nine seconds,” he said. “I’m surprised they’re up for even nine seconds if they’re flaccid,” I replied. “Do you do Snapchat?” he asked. “No. I prefer Snatchchat. Where, like us women, the shots last for hours not seconds,” was my jackass reply.

He continued on with his stories and provided a little advice, “If a stripper buys you a drink it probably has a roofie in it. You should make note of that.” “Good advice. So if that happens, what should I do with the drink?” I asked. “Drink it,” he replied.
“Noted,” I said, put my Russian hat on and left….the past behind me.

 

 

The more Sleepless, Beaner and I go to Zumba the more we realize how much coordination we lack. This becomes especially obvious when females are teaching the class.

 

“For some reason they (female instructors) tend to do more hip moves. Moves my hips don’t do,” Sleepless told us. “I definitely don’t move that way,” Beaner said and added, “It’s like they’re spending too much time trying to be sexy. I do a really sexy naked robot.”

 

And with that, we walked our stiff moving bodies out of class and Beaner headed home to give her husband some sexy naked robot…..sass.

Sleepless and I decided, out of respect for many of our coworkers, to attend Red Mass.

 

I’d been to mass before, during Christmas at St. Patrick’s Cathedral, but I paid way more attention to the architecture and the hats than I did the ceremony. Plus, it had been several years since this took place, so recall of any of the ceremonial actions were, as Sleepless would say, “penguins that had fallen off the iceberg.”

 

We arrived just in time to sit down and then stand up as the priests entered the cathedral. As regular mass attendees did the sign of the cross, Sleepless and reviewed the program in hopes that it would provide us prompts for what was next to come. It did, in some ways. For example, when it was our turn to sing, it was much like karaoke in that the words were detailed in the program for us. Unfortunately, like many karaoke evenings, we weren’t always on key or in tune.

 

At some point we were told to greet our neighbors. Sleepless received guidance from the woman/coworker next to her. I did not, thus, thought people were saying, “Pleased to meet you.” I would respond, “You too.” Turns out the phrase was actually, “Peace be with you.”

 

At some point one of the priests advised, “We must all look with love at young attorneys.” I put on my best love face and looked at Sleepless. I was getting pretty good at mass.

 

As the sacrament was served I leaned over to Sleepless, “I still can’t get past the flesh and blood thing. That said, if someone were to eat something to signify my flesh it would probably be a muffin top.”

 

Several ups, downs, kneels, and ‘Glory to the highest’  later the service was over and we were invited to a reception downstairs. The latter is something I actually do remember about mass: coffee and snacks. No more improvising for me, this part was simple.

 

All in all, we did a pretty decent job improvising – thanks be to whomever printed the program. Without it, our participation might have been a “mass”ive failure.

There are many times I will share information as factual without having the “scientific data” (shout out to Rusty Rogue Rafael) to back it up.

 

For example, I believe sex is not the first thing to go in a relationship. Rather, I think it is kissing. I’ve shared my hypothesis with others and most agree. If you’ve been in a relationship for a while you know what I’m talking about. Sex often becomes somewhat ‘routine’ as time goes on. You wake up, he has a hard on, intercourse occurs. Is there foreplay? Kissing? Not often. Just intercourse. In fact, sometimes it is very one-sided sex. As Tree told me today, “It’s only S & M if both parties enjoy it. Otherwise, it’s just called being an asshole.”

 
Alas, you can imagine my surprise when I was reading NPR today and learned Rafael Wlodarski, a graduate student at the University of Oxford, had recently published a study specific to kissing. Basically, he found relationships were better if there was more kissing. More sex, on the other hand, did not warrant a better relationship.

 

Apparently, even though plenty of odors arise as a result of sex, face-to-face contact allows us a more intimate sense of one’s odor. This act is likened to dogs sniffing each other out; kissing helps us to have a better idea about compatibility and, most of the time, just feels good.

 

So, if you want a long-term relationship, keep your lip gloss and Binaca close by, tilt your head, purse your lips and get ready to experience a sensory overload. xoxox

I used to think I didn’t have an addiction to anything. With the exception of getting caught up in a series for a day or two, there isn’t much I can’t not do. That is, unless I’m at an auction.

 

Whether silent or live, one of my favorite things to do is drive the price. I’m not one to hover. In fact, that is probably my one and only auction pet peeve and if I see someone hovering I will definitely outbid them. You know these types. They’re the people who block the auction item, pretending not to notice your interest, and when you do make it to the item and place a bid, they immediately return to hovering stance and bid again.

 

My all-time favorite part of an auction is the live auction. No hovering can take place here and, if you want to be in the game, you best have at least one good arm. Fortunately, I do.

 

As tonight’s auction – for the kid makers – started I stretched, took a sip of my wine, and threw ‘387’ high into the air. Within the first five minutes I had purchased $40 worth of restaurant gift cards for the amazing price of $150. What was my interest? The fundraiser, of course, and the fact that someone else really wanted it. Clearly they didn’t want it that bad. The bidding continued and I got in on an item my neighbor was bidding on. She eventually bid on top of her on bid. “Did you just outbid yourself” I asked. “Absolutely! I want it!” she replied. Sadly, someone besides me continued to outbid her.

 

Toward the end of the night people were all bid out and money was still needed for the great cause so I kept on bidding and, following my neighbor’s lead, began outbidding myself. My work did not go unnoticed, “You’ve been a hard bidder all night, let’s give this one to you for $75,” the auctioneer announced. I don’t recall what the item was but it doesn’t matter. What matters is a bunch of single women/moms will now have a little more support. When it isn’t for the kids it is for the kids makers. A little change for change goes a long way.

 

 

As of late, and by late I mean late at night, I haven’t been sleeping. This isn’t really anything new for me. My body has been on a graveyard shift for years. I blame zeitgebers and you would too if you knew what they were.

 

Apparently, lack of sleep is related to one’s circadian rhythm, which can also affect hormones, temperature, weight and mood. Luckily, when I don’t sleep, I don’t get moody. That said, I can’t guarantee I don’t have crazy hormones or extreme temperatures. As for my weight, well, ask my pants.

 

When I found out about this circadian rhythm business I did what I often do – tried to find the positive. The positive in this case is the fact that I can now actually claim to have rhythm. Some, like FatGirl, might argue this point and I might consider arguing back, but I prefer to pick on people my own size and with similar zietgebers.

So, for now, I’ll just continue to focus on my new found rhythm and hope to soon experience an instrumental break.

 

A while back Tree and I heard Fortune Feimster was coming to town. “We should go!” we both said. Then, we had another glass a wine and continued on with our lives.

 

Fortune eventually came to town and we went to the venue, but it was strictly by chance. As William Shakespeare once said, “Fortune brings in some boats that are not steered.” By the time we finally got our boats pointed in the right direction and arrived at the venue, Fortune had already performed. We decided to focus on the here and the now, which was  dancing on stage.

 

After a while, I pulled Sleepless from the stage and we headed to the loo where I did what I often do – failed to lock the stall door. As a result, someone attempted to come in. As I exited, the girl who accidentally walked in on me stepped back and allowed Fortune to dart in. As Laurence J. Peter once said, “Fortune knocks but once, but misfortune has much more patience.”

 

As we returned to our stage, on which we had pretty much claimed eminent domain, we shared the loo story with Tree. “I know she is a comedian, but that was kind of a joke,” I told him and then continued to dance. Truth be told, I was just being a dick. I really didn’t care that Fortune bypassed the loo line; that’s definitely something I would do if I could. I just wish I had arrived in time to hear her tell jokes instead of  being in the loo in time to hear her pee. I guess that’s just my misfortune.

Rusty Rogue Rafael is one of those people who falls head over heels in love and then falls flat on his head when the relationship dissolves.

 

In response to a recent breakup, he has been changing his look a bit lately and informed me, “I like to mix things up form time to time. Usually when I’m single.” I replied, “I love to mix things up. Especially when I’m single.” “You’re usually single, right?” was his reply.

 

He then went on to tell me about his new addiction. “Its “ing. Can’t stop it. I’m “ing all the time. Even in real life.” “You’re quoting?” I asked. “Yea, but literally. I keep “ing. For real. When I’m talking with people, to not quote as such, but quite often just to emphasize my point.”

 

“Nice. So you say stuff like, ‘I ain’t hittin’ shit lately,'” I asked. “Yeah. ‘Just when I think I’m out, they pull me back in,'” he quoted. “I love this! It’s like Lucille Bluth. Sure wish I was quoting with you,” I told him. “Just say ‘no.’ No to quoting. It’s a gateway man…..trust me,” he advised.

 

I opted against “trusting” him and began “ing with some of my friends. Being that I’m “usually single,” I figured I could risk “mixing things up” for a bit.

The other night, while avoiding average, I saw a story about George Clooney, James Woods and other ‘Hollywood types’ dating women much younger than them. For example, Woods is 66 and his girlfriend is 20. A  four, nearly five, decade difference. His girlfriend isn’t even old enough to legally drink alcohol with him. Fortunately, for Woods, anyone can drink Metamucil.

 

A few days after observing this machismo mayhem I attended a celebration for residents over 100 years of age. As I entered the venue one of my coworkers asked, “Are you here because you’re looking for a boyfriend?” “Am I in Hollywood?” I asked back.

 

A few minutes later another coworker approached me and said, “Slipped off my ring and hoping to marry into old money.”  “Classy,” I replied. “Hey, I’m not a bad person, I just find love everywhere I go.”  An oldie but goodie – I’m guessing that’s what Woods’ girl says too.